


Crushing

by Miss M (missm)



Category: Earthsea - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: Animal Death, Backstory, Gen, POV Villain, Tombs of Atuan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm/pseuds/Miss%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Better to be disliked than pitied, better to be feared than scorned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crushing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2009 Earthsea ficathon on LJ. Thanks so much to Espresso Addict for beta-reading!

The caterpillar lay sprawled on its back, wriggling helplessly: several of its legs were missing, and the lower part of its body was almost torn in half.

A girl, about five or six years old, was studying it. She reached out again to poke it with a plump finger; it wriggled some more, as if in death cramps. But it was not dead, not yet.

She had been sitting in the meadow for the larger part of the morning, even as the sun climbed to the point where most would have found it unbearable. The grown-ups had not come looking for her. Sometimes it would take them hours, but she was used to that, used to being left to her own devices for long periods at a time.

It would end soon, she knew. They would come for her -- she was to go to away, her father had said, to some strange place where there were things called temples. But she would not think of that, not now.

The stone where the caterpillar lay was warm and rough under her hands. She placed her right hand over the maimed creature; then, slowly, pressed it down.

"Kossil!" came a voice, calling from some distance away. "Kossil!"

The caterpillar fell still under her fingers. The girl smiled.

 

*

 

The desert wind was warm, winding around her cloak as Kossil walked the path to the temple.

She was a woman now, a large, graceless figure standing out among her peers -- unlovely, to be sure, but beauty counted for nothing in this place. When she was younger, she'd longed for company, but too often found herself rejected by the other novices; now, at fifteen, she was a woman, almost a priestess, and she no longer cared. Friendships were useless, childish. Power was real.

Once, when they were all still girls, she'd caught Thar and the Eaten One behind the Small House, when they were supposed to be working in the orchards. As a reward, Kossil was allowed to watch while Thar was beaten, the whip creating long strips of flayed flesh on her thin, pale back. 

Arha, of course, was not flogged. She stood opposite, her face white and her eyes dark; Kossil could see her hands curling into fists. Arha had not cried, neither had Thar, but from that day on they both avoided Kossil, casting down their eyes whenever they ran into her.

It was as it should be. Better to be disliked than pitied, better to be feared than scorned.

As Kossil was about to ascend the temple's stairs, she turned to look out over the desert. Vast, seemingly endless; yet she knew there were cities beyond it. The Godking did not forget his temple -- what about the invisible gods? In what ways would the Nameless Ones reward their servant?

She turned again, ascending the stairs with firm, determined motions.

 

*

 

The child had something unsettling about her, even though she learned quickly enough -- a strong will, perhaps, or a sense of self that had not vanished with her dedication to the Immortal Dead. It was unnerving. It would not do.

"Everything is eaten," Kossil told the girl. "You are but the vessel of your masters. You are Arha. Do you understand?"

The girl said she did, and Kossil let her go. It was spring, and the nights were long. The next day, as the evening drew near, Kossil received word that the Eaten One and a novice called Penthe had been climbing the men's wall, skipping their duties. This was not surprising in the least, but Kossil had not expected the grim satisfaction of dealing out the punishment to be this strong.

The Twin Gods' temple loomed behind the four of them as Kossil let her arm fall, again and again, soft evening breeze cooling the beads of sweat on her brow. Thar and the girl watched, unmovable. Kossil knew at least one of them remembered.

"You are Arha," Thar said, after Penthe had left, red-eyed and wincing from pain. "You should not climb the walls with other girls. You are Arha."

Thar's voice was cool and even, betraying no emotions. Kossil watched her as the girl left, seeing the small twitch of Thar's mouth, the way her eyes closed and slowly opened again, as if she'd witnessed something unbearable. She did not say anything, but turned and walked away in silence, and Kossil watched her, a cold triumph slowly filling her heart.

 

*

 

The man was still in the Labyrinth, somewhere. The girl -- no, the woman; she was a woman now, with a woman's treacherous lusts and desires -- was with him. Of course she was. Kossil had known all along, when it came down to it. The only thing she could not understand, was why Arha had told her about the man in the first place. Was she that fickle, that scared? Had she realised that sooner or later, Kossil would have found out no matter what?

The prisoners (for they were prisoners now; neither the man's cursed magic nor the Eaten One's superstitions would help them) could not get away. There were no other exits.

She knelt on the wooden floor in the small room behind the Throne Room, pressing her hands down on the trapdoor, as if she were crushing an insect. The eunuchs stood beside her, motionless, but waiting to do her bidding. They were hers -- and so was the Place, with its heaps of ruins that were nothing to the Godking's might and glory. A new age was coming, finally, and there would be no more Arhas.

"Put something on the trapdoor," she said, rising. When Duby had done as she said, using a heavy old casket from one of the storerooms, she knelt again, putting her ear to the floor. Yes. They were coming.

She put a hand to the trapdoor, next to the casket. The boards quivered under her fingers, and Kossil smiled.


End file.
